


Lights in the Dark

by wanderingsheep



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Jester tries to be a healer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 13:25:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17561261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingsheep/pseuds/wanderingsheep
Summary: Healing isn't the same for everyone, it always looks different, especially when a little blue tiefling and her trickster god are involved.Aka how coming back from unconscious feels for the members of the Mighty Nein.





	Lights in the Dark

Beau:

Beau wasn't sure exactly how it happened. Well, no that was a lie, she was being fucking stupid, that's how it happened. A group of bandits were trying to rob her and she thought she would win. So here she was, bleeding a metric fuck ton from her leg, barely able to stand, teeth bared, and fists clenched. If she was going to die, she sure as hell was going to go down fighting. There were three of them circling her, eyes glinting in the fading light. There were smiles exchanged between the men as they eyed her. Beau had the desire to squeeze her own eyes shut but all she could afford was a rather aggressive blink. One man rushed her, and Beau caught his chest with the end of her staff. Feeling successful, she bounced on her toes preparing for the next attack, then nearly collapsed as the gash in her leg protested. The last two advanced and Beau barely had the energy to wheeze out an insult before the bandits were preparing for their next assault.

  
Then, in the distance, a shout. Beau turned to look, and really, her mistake. One of the bandits got one last hit to her injured leg and she went down hard. The world spun and she found herself drifting into the black as she bled out. Beau managed one last (very dignified) "well fuck" before the world closed in on itself.

  
Beau sat up, she was completely in the dark. Her leg ached and she knew that this was the god damn end. “What a way to go.” She muttered to herself, preparing to resign herself to whatever this never-ending nothing was. But then, something. The darkness gave way to a bright blue. She looked around as her sight adjusted and saw small tendrils of blue smoke curling around her ankles, tugging playfully at her hair and robes. The smoke briefly coalesced around her leg, and the pain faded completely. Beau felt her eyes drift shut again as a sense of peace settled over her. In the back of her mind, she heard a quiet, yet mischievous, laugh.

  
The world returned with the taste of sugar in her mouth and the feeling of a sharp rock jabbing into her back.  
"Oh, are you okay? I'm so sorry, I've never done that before. Thank the Traveller you are alive, it would've sucked if you had died when I tried to heal you.”

  
The words jammed themselves into her ears, and she winced, eyes closed for a moment before she opened them to find that same blue she had seen light up the dark right in her face.

  
The face of a small tiefling.

  
"Yeah, thanks for that I guess. I totally had it though."

  
Beau stood up, waving off the half-orc's hand. She expected the groaning of muscles that usually accompanied a healing. The clerics at the Reserve always said that every bruise was a lesson or some bullshit. But to her surprise, she felt amazing. A warmth had curled around her injuries, soothing the muscles underneath completely.

  
“I’m Jester, by the way, this is Fjord. We’re traveling to the Academy.”

  
Beau gave a nod, hopping on her toes and flexing her shoulders. Then she took a long look at the pair that had helped her. They looked alright she supposed, plus they were headed more or less away from her home, and clearly, numbers were a safer option.

  
Beau held a hand out, making a decision, "I'm Beau."

 

Molly:

Molly was starting to get annoyed with people and it had only been two years. One minute they're a perfectly nice frog friend who works in the circus and the next they're a not nice at all frog monster that is turning people into zombies. The tiefling danced around the battle, fangs flashing as a feral smile crept its way up his mouth when he allowed ice to prickle from the tips of his fingers down to the edge of his blades. Molly didn't know a whole lot, he couldn't read and was a shit cook. But he knew this, and he was good at it (and perhaps that should scare him, but strangely it was comforting, and really, who has time to think about things like that).

  
His body ached, the monster had gotten a few good swipes in already and didn't show any signs of stopping. If anything his former coworker seemed even angrier. The frog moved away from Molly despite his taunts and he attempted to give chase, desperate to keep its attention.

  
But, he was too slow.

  
Molly saw it happen. It was almost like time had stopped, the rain appeared to down and voices appeared weirdly far away, as tragedy struck. Caleb turned his head to check on Nott, and his moment of distraction was not lost on the creature. Its mouth opened, saliva dripping from its teeth. Caleb wouldn't survive that hit. Molly held out his hand, pretending that it wasn't shaking, and shouted in Infernal. He felt a scar on his chest open and begin to bleed as his spell eagerly collected its price, then he felt nothing at all.

  
It was dark, and Molly felt himself begin to panic and reach out, feeling for wooden walls. He could feel the dirt and stale air pushing down on him. Not this again, he didn't think he could handle digging out of his grave again. Where were his friends? Yasha wouldn't leave him here, right?

  
Then, in a great rush, air blew in and filled the room. Molly didn't think wind could be blue, but here it was. It tumbled over his body, ruffling the bells that adorned his horns with soft fingers. It ran through his cloak, sealing cuts back into their previous scars. Then, as quickly as it had arrived, it whooshed past his ears back into the void from where it had come, all the while carrying an Infernal lullaby with it.

  
Molly woke up, not buried, not forgotten, and 100% himself.

  
Jester sat with her face next to his, so close that he could feel her breath wash over him.

  
She studied him carefully, then spoke. "Are you okay Molly? Do you need more healing? I don’t know that I have a whole lot more, but I can try.”  
Molly gave himself a quick pat down, disappointed by the various stains all over his shirt but relieved to see all of the scars in their proper state of not bleeding, "I am okay, thank you, dear. You really are something special." He gave her a wink and a brief side-hug before standing.

  
"Oh good, we were all worried there for a second., especially Caleb. You should go take to him, I think he is worried and feels bad." Jester threw him a conspiratorial wink over her shoulder before skipping off, barely seeming bothered by the blood that stained the hem of her pretty new dress.

 

Caleb:

Caleb wasn't used to physical pain anymore. Mental, sure, he had enough of that to last several lifetimes. But actual bodily harm? Caleb did not like that at all. A large number of swears tumbled past his lips, as did blood. That was bad, ja? He groaned, leaning back to find the support of a wall or a tree or another person or whatever really. The gnoll edged closer, eager for a second swipe. Caleb tried to conjure his shield but there was blood everywhere and the spell wouldn't manifest, it was almost like his power sensed his desperation and was just as eager to come to a permanent end as that voice in the back of his head was.

  
He continued stumbling backward, one hand pressed to his side. Those weren't internal organs were they? They don't feel like that, do they? Can they come out? More importantly, can they go back in? Thoughts tumbled through Caleb's mind in a frenzy, spells and ideas bounced back and forth faster than the speed of the light that he could conjure on the tips of his fingers. Caleb continued chanting and blood spilled forth as fast as the words. None of that mattered though. He was too slow, not good enough, never good enough, and the gnoll sank its claws into his neck and Caleb’s body fell to the ground.

  
When he came to, it was in darkness. He attempted to cast his lights, but they sputtered out before they could properly take off. Caleb stood still for a moment, thinking, before reaching a conclusion about what had happened. He had expected hell to be worse, to be honest. That's where the worst people went, right? Some form of eternal torture. He definitely deserved it. He had expected playbacks of everything he had done, but none came. Instead, soft tendrils of blue light came floating down, lighting up the dark. They curled around him, warmth in it's purest form. The gash on his side fully closed, nothing left to mark its presence. He even thought he felt the ghost of a thumb rub the dirt off of his face as best as it could before the lights retreated.

  
The world returned slowly, sound first, then sight.

  
He heard Nott above him, growling as she fired off her crossbow bolts in quick succession. Then he heard Fjord and felt the heat of his magic fly overhead.

  
Finally, he opened his eyes, coming face to face with the ray of sunshine herself. "Gods! Are you okay Caleb? Did I heal you enough?" She held out a hand and he gripped it tightly, allowing her to pull him up, briefly letting her support him before releasing to stand on his own feet.  
Caleb expected to feel the sharp tug of pain along his side. Surely she had not expended the energy necessary to heal him all the way? But to his surprise, there was no pain, just the lingering feeling of calm.

  
"You did not have to do that you know."

  
Jester shot him a toothy smile, small fangs flashing, "Of course I did, you are my friend and I am the cleric." She flipped her hair out of the way and proceeded to skip back into the fray, spectral lollipop waving in the sky.

 

Yasha:

Yasha wasn't comfortable with large groups of people. She was always too aware of the stares she garnered, the wary looks when people heard her accent.  
On the other hand, Yasha liked the Mighty Nein. She didn't feel like she stuck out quite so much in their presence. They all had secrets, and they came in so many different sizes and colors that Yasha was perhaps one of the less noticeable members at first glance.

  
The Storm Lord must like the Mighty Nein too, as he usually left her alone for a week at a time while she was with them. And he often allowed her path to cross with theirs. At least, that's what Yasha told herself when she felt most alone.

  
She had been traveling for two weeks now, hunting a necromancer who had directly defied her patron. She finally caught up to him near his lair after several false alarms and escapes on his part. She should have waited, but she knew the Mighty Nein would be close (Jester sent the most confusing messages, but this one had been clear) and she was eager to be done with this whole affair. So she rushed in. The battle was long and bloody. He summoned skeletons and she summoned her wings. They dueled for many minutes, sword and strength against magic and cunning, neither gaining the upper hand. Until finally, Yasha swept her foot out and caught his ankle. He tumbled off balance and Yasha brought her sword down on his head without hesitation or ceremony.

  
She made swift work of the cave, rage still humming through her veins, as his research went up in flames, thus ensuring that such an affront to her patron would be very hard to recreate.

  
It was as she was leaving that she realized how messed up she was. Patches of skin had been eaten away by necrotic damage and the skeletons had scored long marks down her arms. Blood matted her hair from a nasty cut on her head and there would be more bruises than she could count.

  
Grimacing, Yasha proceeded through the forest, one foot in front of the other, barely looking up as all of her focus went toward staying upright. After hours of trudging, Yasha could feel herself swaying. She had lost too much blood. The world faded around the edges as she sank to the ground. Yasha leaned against a tree and gave in to the exhaustion and injuries she had sustained as her surroundings disappeared.

  
The world was dark, far darker than anything Yasha had seen in a very long time. Her body burned as she struggled to stand, wary of danger, desperate to understand what was happening. Then, the rolling sound of thunder, a familiar although not overly friendly sound. She craned her neck, legs still refusing to cooperate properly. Yasha saw clouds: soft, blue, and fluffier than a sheep, roll in. They sank low, coming to rest around her shoulders like a weightless scarf. The warmth was perfect, and Yasha was reminded of home, safe in her lover's arms. She closed her eyes, relishing in the feeling and the memories. And she swore she heard a familiar tune from home being hummed in the back of her mind.

  
Then she woke up. Twin tiefling faces, one blue and one purple, stared at her with concern.

  
"Did I get it all? There was a lot of bad energy in there."

  
"She certainly looks better. Yasha dear, are you awake?"

  
Yasha opened her eyes fully, taking in the scene. These were her....friends. Yes, friends seemed more appropriate than anything else although the word had not been used in some time.

  
She let a rare, soft smile creep up her face. Yasha sent out a small thanks to her patron for bringing her to them before standing up. "Yes, thank you, Jester. I feel much better."

  
"Good! Are you coming with us? Did you kill whatever hurt you? I hope so, those were some bad cuts. You have to meet our new horse Toilet, he's the best!" But before Yasha could open her mouth to begin to answer, Jester had run off as light and as quick as a cloud.

  
Molly just laughed and put his arm around Yasha, “Glad you’re back dear. Ready for the next adventure?”

  
Yasha said nothing, only held his arm briefly before nodding and walking to join the team.

 

Nott:

"Oh gods, oh gods." Nott let out small breaths as she felt herself hyperventilating. Who agreed to fight beings made of water? Certainly not her. Water was death and now she was even more certain of it. Nott took a quick swig from her flask and felt immeasurably grateful that it never ran out. One breath, then two, then a last one to really make sure she was ready. Nott leaned out from around the pillar to take aim and managed to put a bolt right through the forehead of one of the monsters, wincing at it thrashed around, spraying water everywhere.

  
"Oh, good one Nott." Caleb's accent came from the other side of the cave. Nott took courage from the fact that he seemed okay and that everyone was handling the fight just fine.

  
Then of course, as all things must, shit hit the fan. There was only one water monster left, and it had taken a liking to Nott. She ran as fast as she could, but the thing was literally just water. She felt herself begin to panic again as it bore down on her. The monster grew in height, roaring angrily. Then before anyone could move, it crashed down on the tiny goblin, overwhelming her instantly. Nott flailed, trying to get her head out of the crushing downpour. But it was no use. Nott let out a few bubbles just before she inhaled a mouthful of really gross sewer water and the world went painful and dark.

  
The goblin found herself shivering in the dark, completely alone and unable to see anything or feel anything other than the panic. Not even her flask or her crossbow’s familiar weight was with her. Nott could feel the water lurking, could hear the monster’s growling as it stalked her, waiting to strangle and drown her once more. Nott let herself fall to the floor and curled into herself, feeling very alone and much less than brave.

  
Moments passed, no more than a few seconds, but it felt like years. Then, a small flicker. Just in front of her, a small blue flame appeared. It lit up the room with a warmth that Nott hadn't felt in a very long time. Tensing for a moment at the foreign presence, Nott waited for it to move. When it didn't, she relaxed slightly and she uncurled then carefully stuck her hands out. The heat it radiated was the best thing in the world. Without warning, the flame grew in size, almost engulfing her. Nott felt a scream build in the back of her throat, but it died as the flames did nothing more than warm up her entire being. She was left with the distinct taste of warm chocolate in her mouth and a pair of sturdy arms wrapped around her.

 

Then Nott woke up.

  
"Nott I am so sorry! I tried to heal you faster but you were very cold. Are you okay?" The goblin found herself gathered up in a familiar hug by the blue healer. The same warmth that she had felt from the fire came back as she relaxed into the embrace. Nott smiled, seeking out Caleb to make sure he was okay. He returned her smile and Nott looked back to Jester. "I told you water was evil!"

  
The group let out a relieved laugh that bordered on hysterical, and it died in the uncomfortable way that sometimes happened after someone got hurt and no one knew how to move on.

  
"I'm all out of spells so please don't die until the morning, everybody." Jester cut the tension and flopped onto the ground next to Nott and as Nott leaned in, seeking the comfort and acceptance that radiated off of the tiefling. The rest of the Mighty Nein moved in close, as though drawn to Jester the way the Earth is drawn towards the Sun. A helpless pull that brought light and peace.

  
And as she looked around, safe in the embrace of her friends, Nott knew that yeah, this was a good group.

 

Caduceus:

He had never been in a fight before, never killed anything either. The nature of life and death, the fight to survive, those were familiar concepts. But taking a life? No, Caduceus was not familiar with that at all. He knew how to heal and how to protect. He could cook and clean and provide support when it was needed. These were things that Caduceus Clay was familiar and comfortable with. Plus, those skills seemed most necessary for this group who were all blood and steel and reckless abandon.

  
So, he stood at the back of the fight, carefully tracking every person and turning invisible when necessary to keep himself out of the fray It was an easy pattern that he had fallen into and no one had complained, so he assumed he was following the correct protocol for being a part of an adventure group. He spun in a slow circle, eyes taking everything in. He noticed that Beau was looking a little hurt, so Caduceus carefully picked his way through the dead wolves that littered the once peaceful campsite, apologizing to the plants that had been trampled in the skirmish the entire time. He made his way over to the young monk in short time and gently tapped her on the shoulder, sending out a wave of healing.

  
"You looked hurt."

  
But, instead of a thank you, Beau greeted him with a wide-eyed look of concern. "Watch out!"

  
Caduceus didn't even see what hit him, he only felt a white-hot pain piercing his side that ended in darkness.

  
It was quiet, quiet in the way that only being entirely alone can be. Quiet in a way that things hadn't been since he left home. It was concerning, and frankly, a little off-putting. Caduceus hadn't realized how accustomed to the constant sound he had become until now. He tried to stand up but found himself trapped in place by a pain in his body. Caduceus reached down to heal it but saw only a faint flicker of pink light before it was swallowed by the black. Caduceus sighed and resigned himself to this strange place.

  
Then, something changed. He saw creeping little plants that were an odd sort of blue. Definitely not normal plants. They lit up the ground around him, a perfect circle that whispered words of encouragement and safety. Words of friendship and understanding. He reached out, a small smile playing at his lips, and gently touched the small mushroom that had formed and watched as the smallest bit of pink seeped from his fingertips into the fungi, creating a soft purple. “There, nothing wrong with a little teamwork.” Caduceus closed his eyes and inhaled, allowing the mix of his goddess and Jester’s to surround him before he surrendered.

  
His eyes opened and he was back, flat on the ground with a concerned group of friends peering at him.

  
"You sure you did it right Jessie? He got hit pretty good. Does your healing even work on him if he’s got a different god?"

  
"I healed all of you just fine before he got here and I'll-oh hi! You're back!"

  
Caduceus sat up, accepting Yasha's quiet hand. "Yes, that was a unique experience, to say the least, I have never felt the healing of another being. Thank you, Jester."

  
"Oh it is no big deal, you are my friend after all."

Caduceus looked up, "hm, indeed," He stood up, taking in the group that he had adopted and come to care for so deeply, "it's nice to have friends."

 

Fjord:

They were surrounded. The slavers had fallen upon them while they were sleeping, too cocky to keep watch because who would dare touch the Mighty Nein. Thoughts raced through Fjord’s mind in a panic as he desperately tried to come up with something to do, some way out of this mess. Not again, not again, not again. Like a mantra that pulsed through his entire being. The slavers were advancing in a slow circle, a lazy spiral inward because they knew this group wouldn't be going anywhere. Everyone was bleeding and half of Caleb's beard had been singed off from a failed fireball.

  
He felt Jester's arm pressed against his, he could hear her struggling to breathe against the panic. Gods, he wanted, no, needed, to protect her from this the way he hadn't been able to before. They had barely survived the first time, Molly hadn't. The men inched ever closer, leering at the near-defeated group.

  
Fjord grit his teeth, felt them grind against his newly growing tusks, tasted blood from where he had bit his tongue. The half-orc spit onto the ground, ignoring the red tinge, before turning to Beau, who was panting, exhausted from the haste spell that had work off, and he said, "Not without a fight."  
Beau nodded and the group surged into one, last, desperate frenzy.

  
Fjord ran in, sea water pouring from his hand and mixing with the blood of the slavers. The Mighty Nein were winning, Fjord could feel victory singing in his bones. They were going to be okay.

  
Then he saw it. A dagger, flicking out from the hand of a dying man, and right into the back of a flagging blue tiefling who was desperately trying to keep Yasha from bleeding out.

  
He moved without thinking, his body twisting directly into the path of the dagger. There was a soft thump, and his world faded into black.

  
Fjord shot up, gasping for air he didn't need. The night was oppressive and his armor was wet. This isn't right, he wasn't sleeping...right? There had been a battle, he had, oh gods, he had taken a dagger to the chest. Fjord felt his breath increase in speed as panic set in and questions flew through his mind. How far could his patron reach? Would he be followed into death? Fjord started to properly hyperventilate, clawing at the water, desperate to get away. He would rather be dead than allow his patron to take over his body and use him once more.

  
But the water was insistent. It almost playfully followed him, running up his arm to mess with his hair, flicking drops into his eyes and ears. That's when he tastes it. There’s no salt. The water was a clear blue, pure and warm and...teasing? The half-orc reached out, hesitant, but the water responded, glowing ever so slightly, as if in encouragement. It ran under his armor along his chest, healing up the hole that had been left. He felt a little poke in his abdomen before the water retreated, leaving him perfectly dry.

  
Then he woke up.

  
More water dropped on his face, just the faintest drops, and Fjord came face to face with a little blue tiefling that had clearly been crying.

  
"Jester?"

  
"Fjord! You're back! Do you feel okay, you were gone for so long and I was worried maybe it hadn't worked and that you had left me, us, again but now it's okay, you're back and we won. No slavers here." The words came out in a rush, and she put a smile on her face with an ease that broke his heart.  
Fjord reached up, leveraging himself to meet her halfway as he pulled her into a hug.

  
"I ain't ever gonna leave you, Jess, I promise."

  
He heard soft sniffles, then, “You shouldn't make promises you don't know that you can keep.”

  
Fjord didn't have a response, only pulled her in closer, letting her bury her tears in the privacy of his shoulder, praying to the Traveller to allow him to stay at her side for as long as he could.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Hope you enjoyed! These aren't necessarily canon fights, but more of a character study of the Mighty Nein and what it looks like to be healed after falling in battle.  
> Find me at okaykiri.tumblr.com if you want to chat!


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